


Exit

by goblin



Category: Askewniverse
Genre: Angst, Gen, Pre-Slash, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-11-24
Updated: 2001-11-24
Packaged: 2017-11-03 09:42:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/380016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goblin/pseuds/goblin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Running away from home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exit

**Author's Note:**

> A songfic for "Exit Music (For A Film)" by Radiohead.
> 
> WARNIINGS: Implied physical abuse.
> 
> DISCLAIMER/POP QUIZ: Are Jay and Silent Bob owned by -   
> a) Kevin Smith, Miramax and View Askew;  
> b) Each other; or  
> c) Jay/Silent Bob slashers everywhere?  
> If you answered a), you're correct.  
> If you answered b), you're a hopeless romantic.  
> If you answered c), you're an egotistic wishful thinker.

_wake from your sleep  
the drying of your tears  
today we escape  
we escape_

Fourteen, with bruises on his back and hair he refuses to cut. They argue with him about that, but it's just one more thing to argue about. 

_pack and get dressed  
before your father hears us  
before all hell   
breaks loose_

The dark-haired boy climbs out the window and down the ladder silently, despite the twinges in his knees from all night kneeling, watching, waiting for the morning when he could take the sleeping boy away from this house of knives and cockroaches. 

_breathe  
keep breathing  
don't lose your nerve_

Sneakered feet are shaking as they slowly touch and find their footing on each rung, while below, hands grip the ladder with the white-knuckled strength brought by fear. 

_breathe  
keep breathing   
i can't do this alone_

Wishing, wishing for the electric blanket and the bedroom he will never see again, he still knows when looking at the other's pain-wrenched face that leaving safety and ease forever is worth it to get this boy away from the family that kills him by inches.

_sing us a song  
a song to keep us warm   
there's such a chill  
such a chill_

One bag each, sitting beside them, as they wait for the first bus of the day. The bus to who-knows-where. The bus to morning. The bus to hope.

The blond-haired boy is shaking from cold or from fear. So the other breaks his usual silence to sing, a soft, unknown lullaby with meanings twisting paper-thin. And he feels that gaunt frame pressed against his and shaking with sobs now.

_you can laugh  
a spineless laugh   
we hope your rules and wisdom choke you_

The dull roar of the approaching bus brings them to their feet, and the dark-haired boy must force himself to do the talking, asking for the tickets, tonelessly thanking the driver, steering the younger one to a seat by the window where they can watch the old neighborhood fly away. Thinking of what this boy has weathered, his heart hardens and in his mind's eye the town burns.

_now we are one  
in everlasting peace   
we hope that you choke  
that you choke_

They cling to each other because they have nothing else, and nothing will ever part them, and something forever will be right now. And they hope those in the house they left this morning will at long last and in the darkness of mindlessness turn on each other, and scream and cut and drink and smoke and beat each other to death, for they've lost their favourite whipping boy.

_we hope that you choke  
that you choke  
we hope that you choke  
that you choke_


End file.
